


Push Your Head Towards The Air

by Grand Buzz (quodpersortem)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Accidental Outing, Angst, Bisexuality, Coming Out, First Kiss, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Polyamory, Polygamy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-26
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-03-09 02:34:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3233018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quodpersortem/pseuds/Grand%20Buzz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Modest will have your arse,” Liam finally manages, his voice sounding strained. “You can’t pull shit like that and you especially can’t involve me in it.”</p><p>Zayn takes a deep breath and nods, even if he’s not sure Liam’ll see that. “I know, Li. I wouldn’t—I wouldn’t have done that you deliberately, you know that right?”</p><p>(Or: Zayn wants to post fan art of himself to his Twitter but accidentally posts nsfw Ziam art and doesn't realise until it's a little too late).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Push Your Head Towards The Air

**Author's Note:**

> Title's from the Editors song by the same title.

_If I lay face down on the ground_  
 _Would you walk all over me?_  
 _Have we learnt what we set out to learn?_  
 _Well, then love we will see_  
  


-

It’s an accident.

Of course it is. Zayn would never, _never_ deliberately post this kind of art— _not_ the kind where Liam’s crouched over him, his lips on Zayn’s neck, hands squeezing his hips.

Hell, if he’d noticed he’d have taken it back down right away but—but he didn’t. He’s not sure _how_ it happened, he went to sleep thinking that they were simple drawings of only him because he would _never_ compromise a bandmate like that, and then he wakes up to his phone blinking.

There’s a tweet that comes up first, Liam tweeting “@zaynmalik TAKE THAT DOWN NOW!!” Harry’s tweeted “rainbows yes”. There are several texts too, all by Liam and all telling him the same thing, as well as Niall saying _dats daring Z fangirls gonna love u b safe !!_ _._

Zayn feels fear coil in his guts by the time he’s found out that Liam tried to call him three times, and there’s a missed call from Louis as well.

When he pulls up his Twitter account, he sees his mistake right away.

He doesn’t text any of the boys, not even Liam, doesn’t bother removing it because what’s the point now? There’ll be screencaps of this everywhere, it’s been up for six hours which is definitely more than long enough for their fans to have enough verification to prove the tweet as real even if he did take it down.

-

In the rehearsals the next morning, the atmosphere is tense. Liam’s not looking at him and Louis keeps sneaking glances and whispers to Harry an awful lot more than usual. Niall’s the only person who dares to greet him, and Zayn just shrugs to acknowledge him.

When they are to for lunch, Liam’s gritting his teeth as he stays behind in the sound booth, twirling around in a desk chair. He’s stoically avoiding Zayn’s eyes but Zayn lingers too, finds himself alone with Liam.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean to post that.”

“Modest will have your arse,” Liam finally manages, his voice sounding strained. “You can’t pull shit like that and you especially can’t involve _me_ in it.”

Zayn takes a deep breath and nods, even if he’s not sure Liam’ll see that. “I know, Li. I wouldn’t—I wouldn’t have done that you deliberately, you know that right?”

“Everyone’s gonna think we’re gay now, though,” Liam says, and it’s more venomous than Zayn’s used to from him but it’s hardly a surprise. He knows what Liam’s like, they all know what he’s been through before he joined One Direction and Zayn knows that this, _this_ specific kind of worry is something Liam’s been trying to deal with for years now. Zayn can’t imagine what it is to be bullied for being something you’re not but he can’t imagine it being nice. He sees why Liam’s so defensive about it, even if it hurts him every single time.

“And you’re not,” he calmly replies, because Liam knows all that. “Which—like, that’s enough for you and Sophia, isn’t it? You’re happy.”

Liam nods and then he shrugs. He looks angry.

“You’re—Liam, I know you had a hard time in school but you can’t worry like that about what people think about you _now_. I’ll take it down if that is going to make you feel better but it’s not going to make the situation go away.”

Liam’s quiet for a while, moving side to side. Zayn follows the movement of Liam’s knees, pushing himself into countermovement, waits for a sign that tells him he’s dismissed; that everything’s alright, but instead Liam stills suddenly and looks up at him.

“How about you, though?”

“What about me?” Zayn asks, swallowing against his suddenly dry mouth. He knows what Liam means—he’s been dreading this question for the past four, five years. He’s not going to lie.

“Are you gay?”

Zayn snorts out a laugh as he shakes his head. “Not _gay_.”

Liam doesn’t sound like he thinks it’s amusing at all when he says, “But not straight.”

“No,” Zayn confirms. “I’m not.”

And then Liam’s nodding and walking out of the room, and of fucking course that hurts (god, it hurts so, so much) but Zayn lets him, he knows that Liam’s going to need some time processing the news.

-

Zayn knows he’s prone to silence.

He goes quiet when he’s tired and when he’s angry, especially when he’s around people he doesn’t know that well. He withdraws himself from the world when he’s upset, tries to sleep the days away until he feels better.

Perrie’s texted him about the drawing and he hasn’t responded to her yet, even if it’s been two days. Then again, the message was a bit confronting because he hadn’t expected her to catch on like this—figured that either she already knew (she didn’t) or that she wouldn’t figure things out (she did).

 He’s got unread messages from Louis and Niall as well.

Zayn just doesn’t have it in him to face Liam right now, and the weekend’s a perfect waste of time, bundled up in his soft sheets as he watches telly and orders in kebab and curry that he eats with a glass of whiskey at the side.

He feels strangely heartbroken, which he shouldn’t be because he’s still with Perrie, for however long that might last. But the fact that Liam—rejected not only him but his feelings in general, a part of Zayn that’s been with him the past years and which was brought to awareness because of Liam in the first place, it stings. It leaves him with heavy limbs and tired lungs, exhausted from smoking and sleeping and simply feeling.

-

That’s how he shows up on Monday as well. His eyes are puffy from exhaustion, he’s got his hair in disarray, and his scruff is growing well into disgusting beard territory.

Liam avoids him on Monday.

Tuesday is no better, even if Louis comes to him and hugs him tight. Zayn’s mostly baffled at how they still manage to sing their harmonies as well as they do because he hadn’t thought the band would function anymore.

Part of him is sad, because it means that their friendship isn’t holy, isn’t part of the magic. Not necessary to bring success. And that means, although he thinks, hopes, that means that Liam might not forgive him for this.

Liam comes to him on Thursday.

He doesn´t greet Zayn or anything, just stares at him where Zayn´s standing in the middle of an empty room and asks, “It’s true, then? What Haz said?”

Zayn frowns because he has no idea what Harry could’ve been talking about. “I don’t know, what did Harry say?”

Rubbing his hand over his head, Liam says, “That you’re... y’know?”

“Liam, I told you I’m bi myself, didn’t I?”

And Liam’s visibly growing flustered then, shaking his head, and now Zayn’s completely lost. Harry hadn’t said anything to _him_ about a conversation with Liam—not that Zayn feels like he should have, or blames Harry, they talk about the other guys with each other all the time.

“No, no, I meant that you,” and he’s pointing at Zayn which is even _stranger_ , “like, with me?” and pointing at himself, and Zayn can feel himself break out in a cold, cold sweat.

Of course Zayn hadn’t told Harry about that, hasn’t told anyone ever except Louis and that was back in the early days, but he’s not surprised that Harry noticed, especially after his major mistake last week.

Instead of defending himself, instead of denying what Liam’s saying, Zayn feels an awful calm rush wash over him, like the quiet after a storm—or maybe the moment’s reprieve in the eye of a hurricane, as he says, “I can’t help what I feel, can I?” And when Liam keeps staring at him like he’s lost his head he adds, “I’m sorry.”

He needs to walk away after that, and it’s terrible to have to walk down the corridor with Liam’s eyes on his back, terrible to know he’s still watching Zayn as he rounds the corner before diving into the nearest toilet, sitting down on the lid still dressed and with his face buried in his hands.

-

Liam goes back to avoiding him after that, Zayn thinks.

He’s not sure because he’s avoiding Liam just as much—in the knowledge that it hurts him less if it feels like he has a hand in this, if it feels like it’s _his own choice_ to not be talking to Liam directly.

Liam does stare at him an awful lot, though. Zayn can feel his eyes following him across the room, and it’s unnerving and strange, especially because whenever he looks directly at Liam he’ll quickly divert his gaze elsewhere.

It’s weighing Zayn down like mad, and although he’s never been fond of rehearsals it’s just so much worse now that he constantly gets Louis or Niall or Harry filling him in, “Liam said that-“. All three of them look equally apologetic, and Louis evens offers to get drunk with him one night, which Zayn politely declines.

Frankly, it’s self-preservation. He’s not sure he won’t start talking about Liam if he does get drunk right now. He’s not sure he’ll be able to keep himself from crying.

After a week, even the fans have caught on. Whereas first the Tumblr and Twitter posts were focused on _Ziam is real!!_ now he sees the same three pictures over and over again. There’s one of himself, outside and smoking, looking not particularly happy. There’s one where he and Liam are in the studio—obviously something Harry posted—and they’re standing on opposite ends of the room, clearly not looking at each other.

The third picture is one of Liam, taken by a fan that got his autograph outside of the rehearsal studio. Zayn’s looked up the story that went with it, and the only reason it holds any significance for the fans (and for Zayn, too, reluctant as he is to admit it) is that the fan claims he’d talked about missing Zayn and looked sad.

It doesn’t make Liam talk to him, though, no matter how much Zayn wants him to.

-

There are only two days to go until they leave on tour, so Zayn indulges himself with some of the last proper introversion he can afford for the next eight months or so.

He’s halfway through a film and a quarter through a bottle of whiskey when his phone buzzes. It’s got to be one of his bandmates, considering that he’s put everyone else on silence—but when he grabs it he finds that the call screen reads _Liam_ and that’s—that’s—God, he doesn’t even know.

Zayn answers the phone.

“Can I come talk to you?” Liam asks, and the sincerity in his voice reminds Zayn of when they were younger, of curly hair and bright smiles and the endless fights Liam would have with Louis because he’d wanted to win so badly.

Zayn takes a deep breath. “Yeah, I guess,” he says, trying his best for casual. “If you’re going to be a twat you can piss right off, though.”

He closes his eyes as he waits for Liam’s reply, almost expecting the end of the call when Liam tells him, “I won’t, Zayn, I promise,” instead. And that makes him feel bad, having expected the worst of Liam when he’s literally one of the best people Zayn knows—just not always equally tactful or clever.

The doorbell rings less than a minute later and Zayn’s hardly surprised to find Liam’s silhouette on the security cam at the gates.

He lets him through and goes to open the door, and the very first thing he sees is that Liam’s hands are shaking, noticeable even in the dark.

When Liam comes in, in the light of the corridor, it’s clear to Zayn how bad he looks. There are dark circles under his eyes that Zayn hadn’t noticed during the rehearsals—though that’s probably due to him avoiding Liam pretty stubbornly.

Liam shrugs off his coat and kicks his shoes to the side, and once he’s done that he looks both smaller and more forlorn than Zayn’s seen him in years. They don’t speak as Zayn leads the way into the living room, sitting down on the same couch.

“I’ve been thinking,” Liam says, perched on the edge of the couch like he’s going to run any moment, so Zayn nods as an encouragement, to get him to go on. “I’ve—um. Like, you’d kiss me? I mean, you’d want to?”

Zayn’s stomach drops at that sentence, because this does _not_ sound like a good start to this conversation but Liam had promised him he won’t fuck him over. He nods, voice hoarse as he says, “Yeah, I would.”

Liam’s grimacing when he continues, “Still, after what I did?”

Zayn shrugs and nods again, because he would—he doesn’t think he’ll ever _not_ want to kiss Liam and he doesn’t see the point in lying.

“What if I wanted to kiss you too?” Liam says, and he seems to grow even smaller, eyeing the bottle of whiskey on the table.

“What the fuck.” The words fall from Zayn’s lips without preamble; fall flat and unamused because Liam was being a right cunt to him when he came out, because he was still that last week, yesterday, and now this?

Liam’s got his head in his hands, rubbing at his eyes as he shakes his head. He’s shaking and Zayn recognises the nervousness in the tight lines of his muscles, so he resigns to talking to Liam the rest of the evening—but not before he goes into the kitchen to grab another glass, pouring Liam a drink when he’s back on the couch.

“Okay, go on then,” Zayn tells him.

Liam’s breathing too quickly, and he eyes Zayn nervously before grabbing his whiskey and sipping at it—then downing it at once and slamming the glass back on the table. He cringes again at the loud noise, and Zayn watches it all happen with a frown because it’s obvious that Liam’s not fine—possibly less so than Zayn himself.

In all honesty—he’s not sure why Liam’s not at any of the other boys’ houses.

Liam takes another deep breath and says, voice rough from the whiskey, “I think, I’ve been thinking a lot and I just—it was weird, okay? Hearing that from you and seeing that art. But then I thought about it and I just—I don’t think I’d be against kissing you.”

The silence that follows is ringing in Zayn’s ears as he pulls out every ounce of self-preservation he has left not to jump at the chance.

His voice wavers a little as he says, “Kissing me won’t—it won’t make you not-homophobic, you know?”

Liam nods, stiffly, looking at the glass on the table as he badgers on.

“Yeah, I. I know. But. I don’t know how to say this, Zayn.”

“With words, Liam,” he says, because he is tired of the twisting and turning that Liam’s doing and feeling like he’s getting stabbed in his guts over and over, unnecessary and wrecking him.

 “I _want_ to kiss you,” Liam finally says. His face is flushed, so worked up that he sounds a little annoyed—and Zayn knows Liam, knows that he’s more likely annoyed at his own inability to find the right words than at Zayn. “Zayn. I—fuck. I _want_ to kiss you, like the way I want to kiss Soph, not—not anyone else.”

And the truth of those words do hit Zayn hard, punching the air from his lungs but God, it’s better—so much better than the knife-jabs that made him want to cry.

Liam takes another deep breath, pouring himself another shot as he struggles on.

“I talked to her, to Sophia, by the way and she said she—saw? Or something. That there are like, things between us.”

“Things?” Zayn asks, because he wants to beg for more information but he also wants to stay polite, give Liam the time he needs because all Zayn wants right now is to crawl into his lap.

“Yeah, like the—Zayn, come on,” Liam begs, and he’s frowning and looking at Zayn with those big eyes. “She knows, I talked to her first, she said I should come here.”

And Liam’s still looking at Zayn and he’s scruffy the way Zayn is, not in a fashionable way but in a _I haven’t slept well in days_ kind of way, and Zayn has no idea what to do or how to handle this.

Especially not when Liam’s eyes start to tear up—and Zayn can see it happen, can see them big browns that he’s always loved so much fill and then spill over. Tears find their ways down Liam’s cheeks, and Zayn’s reaching out before he can stop himself, cradling Liam’s head between his hands as he uses his thumbs to gently wipe the tears from Liam’s warm skin.

“Perrie and I,” he starts, awkward and unsure if he should be bringing this up right now, but he feels like Liam should know, anyhow, before everyone else does. “We won’t stay together.” It’s a relief to get that out, even if it’s not quite the truth. It feels like they broke up months ago. “And Sophia knows, and she sent you here.” Liam nods. Zayn feels it, his hands still holding Liam’s face. “She’s okay with it?” Liam nods again, sucking his lower lip into his mouth and Zayn’s gaze drops down.

 Zayn meets his eyes.

“Can I kiss you now?” he whispers, and Liam nods again, a little sigh falling from his lips although Zayn can’t quite place the feeling behind it. It could still be the emotion that comes with fancying a boy (because Zayn knows, intimately knows the thoughts that must be milling through Liam’s head right now, the thoughts that kept him up; he remembers the turmoil he went through four years ago when he first realised all these same things about himself). It could simply be that he’s glad that Zayn will let him, after everything.

He leans in slowly, giving Liam ample time to prepare for what is coming.

First it’s just their lips—Liam’s a little more damp from licking them incessantly, from the tears. And then Zayn slips one hand down Liam’s neck, thumbs his jaw and feels Liam open his mouth, just incrementally but far enough for Zayn to slip his tongue inside.

Liam tastes like whiskey, smoke, of the tears he’d cried earlier, the ones Zayn had been unable to wipe away before. He licks them from Liam’s mouth, kisses him deep and shallow and most of all desperately and Liam lets him, lets Zayn kiss him. His hand’s come to rest on Zayn’s waist, and something slowly uncoils within both of them, as they relax into each other on Zayn’s couch in that same perfect way their lips fit together.

They kiss until the hint of smoke is gone, the tears, the sharp tang of whiskey in the back of their throats, and it’s just their hands and mouths and Liam pulling Zayn down with him until Zayn’s lying on top of him.

When they break the kiss Zayn rests his head under Liam’s chin, on his wide chest, with Liam’s heartbeat under his ear and his arms wrapped tightly around Zayn’s slighter body.  
   
It feels good to be held this way for once, after years of not-quite-that. It feels good to feel safe, not just physically but all the way down to his inner workings, like he doesn’t have to keep anything to himself anymore because Liam’s seen it all, understands it all, to an extent that Perrie never did and never will.   
  
Liam strokes his back and Zayn relaxes some more, feeling himself glide off into a relaxed slumber for the first time in weeks as Liam kisses the top of his head, then again as if he can’t quite stop. After a while, he whispers “I’m sorry” to Zayn, squeezing him a little closer for a moment before he resumes his gentle caresses that lull Zayn into sleep not much later. 

-

_Now don't drown in your tears, babe_  
 _Push your head towards the air_  
 _Now don't drown in your tears, babe_  
 _I will always be there_  
  



End file.
